The Wonder of It All
by Merovia
Summary: A tickle in my brain - a glimpse of one of the turning points in RKB's life.


The wonder of it all is that whether we acknowledge it or not we never know what the day will bring until it has gone.

We might think we know, but in the end we don't. We can only guess; guess and hope.

If we care to look life is full of little surprises. Small turning points and even smaller and more insignificant decisions that we perhaps make without even considering them, without even the smallest hint of a pause, but in the end they are what shape our lives until we have no more days left.

An uplifting yet gloomy thought, isn't it?

Perhaps it would be too overwhelming if indeed we had to give consciously deep thought to all the small choices we take on a daily basis. Perhaps that knowledge would stiffen our hand and make us hesitate until we we're too afraid to move, lest we should make a wrong movement and thus a wrong choice.

Yet perhaps it would be good to sometimes just hesitate a bit and take in all the possibilities we were so recklessly about to discard.

Today was such a day, much like any other day. A day filled with opportunities, chances taken and chances lost. Possibilities up for the grasp or to be recklessly dismissed.

A day gone into without thought – taken for granted with the unconscious disdain with which we open our eyes to each new and gloriously fresh day.

A ray of sun through a window pane, tickling the nose of many a person, until they would slowly stir to life, perhaps give a little grunt, before finally opening their eyes. Stretchingly stir into life whilst slowly shedding the blanket of sleep. Yawning for breath and refreshing air until little by little the land of dreams draws back and shows us the reality of our life.

Some would wake with a smile on their face, filled with energy and optimism for what the day would bring. Thrilled at the mere thought of their lucky existence. Others would wake with only the dire wish of closing their eyes and go back to sleep again, as sadness or other things of ill fate would be their most likely anticipated companion on the day. Bleak outlook with not even a hint of hope for improvement of their unlucky circumstances.

Though of course whether any of these anticipations would be fulfilled. none can tell before the sun sets on yet another day. Perhaps the smile will have stiffened, and hurt blotted out the optimism due to some tragic unforeseen event. Blind siding the unsuspecting person who did not have the imagination to fathom such an abrupt change of luck. Perhaps the goddess of fortune would have smiled on one of those unfortunate existences and the eyes that awoke filled with shadows and dread will close at the end of the day with a new gleam in them. Hope in the heart of that sorrowful soul that expected to live one dreary day after another.

Our lives are shaped by our conscious and unconscious choices, by the people around us, by the myriad of people that has come before us. All those feet which for endless years has walked the globe and shaped our whole existence by creating history both the well documented as well as the unwritten tale of our common past.

People who have warred and loved, hated and schemed, braved and sacrificed themselves for what they saw as the greater good or perhaps frozen in indecision scared of the outcome of an actual decision yet failing to recognise that failing to make a decision is a life shaping decision in itself. Century after century of our kinds deep imprint on the world that we no matter how hard we try can not liberate us self from. Without our past we wouldn't be, whether we care to admit it or not.

History, such an inconsequential thing that we do not perhaps pay attention to as our life clocks ticks out the seconds that measures our lives, but in a way come together to guide our hands in the choices that we make through the people that breed us, the people we meet and the places we find ourselves at.

That is a non-negotiable part of life and that truly is the wonder of it all.

On this bright morning a young man was awoken by exactly such a tickling ray of sun. It was early, and so the air was still crisp and clear to the breath. Later it would be stickingly hot and sweltering, the air would be polluted by dust whirled from the dry roads by the feet of many people and their accompanying animals but at this hour of the day every breath of air still held the crispy freshness only offered after a calm and cleansing night. In the silence that still reigned a lone owl swooped past, tired yet filled after a successful night of hunting, ready for rest and peace at a time when most other beings human as well as dumb animal were refreshed and ready for another day.

But back to our boy, our young man, who at least for now will be at the centre of our attention.

He slowly opened his eyes, lay there still for a moment. Trying to hold on to this state of being in between awake and asleep for just another second, in an attempt to prolong the feel of joy that sprang through him every morning as he woke op.

It was one of his favourite parts of the day. Waking up – discovering yet another day filled with possibilities for new adventures. A moment where the heady overwhelming rush of simply being alive would zap through him and leave behind a tingling shuddering sensation of pure joy. A treasured moment he could not possibly share with anyone, but that did in no way diminish his joy in the moments occurrence.

After another moment of silence he jumped out of bed, and began the hasty process of dressing.

Though he was a man brought up in a wealthy family where servants were plenty and took care of most everything he still took care of his own dressing. In his later life he would succumb to the need for a personal valet who would ensure the perfect pristinity of his clothes, though never the need to have an extra set of hands helping him into the perfectly tailored jackets and elegantly tied cravats that would be his trademark. But let us not dwell on what is will be. That particular fact is of no real consequence to this part of our young man's history.

He was a good looking chap, dark haired and a lean muscly build. His chin was well defined, and his face was slowly loosing its boyish qualities, and in its place a handsome aristocratic phase slowly revealed itself. Hock nose and dark eyebrows in combination with well defined cheekbones, already made him a favourite with the girls, though at this point in time he had not realised the full benefit that could be derived simply from good locks. His hair was thick and almost black and had an unruly tendency to refrain from yielding to even the most dedicated effort of coiffing it into the elegant swept back hairstyles which was just the thing at the moment. Much like the personality of the young man had shown resistance in all the efforts of moulding it after the template of a perfect gentleman which his father so insistently strived to do.

His eyes were bold and black, holding no little amount of mischief in them. Even when the face was tamed into blandness the eyes would always tell the tales of the latest mischief he had conjured out of his imagination or some other funny encounter that was never too far away in memory.

His face was shaped along the lines of aristocracy telling the tales of the generations of breeding that had went before him. His skin however was swarthy and the glint in his bold eyes did not suggest that the breading had softened his character or that his blood had been weakened by the generation that had come before him. Instead he emitted an air of healthiness that could have been considered almost indecent if not from the respectability of his parents. Perhaps a straying parent sometimes in past generations had ensured the strength of the blood lines.

This was not a boy or rather a man that could be easily cowed. A fact that both made his father proud, though he rarely acknowledged it, and angry beyond reason when this young man had yet again strayed from convention and made a roaring spectacle of himself something which said father of course felt reflected badly on the family name in general and more specifically he felt it made him as the responsible parent a laughingstock. This last presumption of course was unfounded as the our young man despite his unruly nature was generally respected and admired as a fine example of a young man in the circle of friends and acquaintances of both father and son. Spirit to a certain extend was admired in the world where our young man lives – of course within certain limits.

This was a man who challenged life, took the blows that subsequently was dealt him and challenged it again. He had learned at an early age not to rely on anyone but himself. Strange perhaps since he was brought up with all the privileges of wealth, the reason however could easily be found in the before mentioned father. Well no use crying over spilt milk – and though he sometimes looked with envy at the easy camaraderie that some of his friends shared with their Fathers, he didn't like to indulge in self pity. He was mostly happy with his lot in life – and now that he had finally come of age he would never again be cowed by his father.

"Morning Marietta" He smiled at the broad backed black woman who scuttled around the hall, giving the already shinning floor another buff before the master and mistress of the house were to come down for the morning.

"Morning Master Rhett" was the automatic reply, accompanied with a smile at the young man's back as he hurried out the open front door.

"Morning Master Rhett" was also the greeting he received upon entering the stable – a greying negro of fifty or more years was busy saddling his masters favourite horse. Few were the days when this early morning service was not needed.

"Morning to you Persius" Rhett responded as he accepted the reins of the elegantly built horse. Fine head, clever eyes and ears that keenly followed all that went on around him. It was a slender horse, though like its master it had a powerful muscular build that told the tale of great endurance. Colorado was the proud masterpiece of careful breeding, and it had therefore been a cause for much arguing between father and son whether the stallion were to be used as a riding horse or kept purely to expand on the bloodlines. That however was one argument in which the son had been indulged – some strict ground rules had been laid down for the horse use – but nevertheless it was with his fathers full consent that Rhett had the horse saddled for his daily morning rides.

"When will you be back, master" The old man questioned – knowing that old Mister Butler would expect his son to be back within the next two hours. Today was an important day to the master of the house. Even he who seldom moved beyond the realm of the stable knew this, lots of people were coming, important ones at that. Not that he had any say in that – he just hated to see how Mister Butler more often than not was at odds with his son. Persius himself had son's and knew how trying they could be – but he also knew that tightening the cords too tight would eventually make them burst.

A joyful burst of laughter was all the response he got, as the young master elegantly swung himself onto the back of the gleaming brown animal. It stood absolutely still, waiting for its riders signal before setting of at the requested pace.

"Don't keep a lookout for me Persius" The joyous voice rang as he urged the horse into a relaxed trot – just as the hoof beats died away Persius however heard the change from rhythmic trot into the faster flowing beat of canter. He shook his head lightly and then went back to his chores. Silently wondering what would come of this open defiance of Old Master Butlers orders.

A/N: So what do you think - I know it is something different - but I tell you this story has just been a tickle in my brain for the longest time. I know eactly which story I want to tell - at least the big lines... but I am not really sure I can get it down the way I want it - if that makes sence... I had promised myself that I wouldn't post any part of it before I was completely done with it as another multichapter story is not exactly what I need on my hand... but well... I need some feedback in order to spark my imagination for the rest of it - hopefully it will reflect on my other stories as well ;) As snow is relentlessly pouring down it would be a perfect time to get some writing done.


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